


The Subtle Art Of Seduction

by gutwenching



Series: The Cure For Poison And Evil Curses (Is You) [1]
Category: We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019), We Have Always Lived in the Castle - Shirley Jackson
Genre: Biting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Nipple Licking, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Romance, Seduction, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, mostly smut though, slight plot, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutwenching/pseuds/gutwenching
Summary: An idea surfaced. If she could not stop him from returning, she could at least distract him long enough to delay him.Part of a larger series but can be read as a stand alone piece.
Relationships: Charles Blackwood/Reader
Series: The Cure For Poison And Evil Curses (Is You) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654420
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	The Subtle Art Of Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! The thing no one asked for!

“Rosie.”

Charles Blackwood’s voice was deep, rich like black coffee and bitter chocolate. His touch, featherlight fingertips ghosting over the expanse of her jaw as intense as he himself.

Though entrancing, his voice sounded miles away from her own little world, a place between sleep and wakefulness. With a soft echoing of her name, his voice drew her back to reality.

The sudden brightness of the rising morning sun left everything coated in a green hue, taking its toll on her vision. Through her sundrenched haze, the winter blue of his eyes stood out as his gaze rested upon her. His lips were pink and puffy with sleep and midnight kissing, the memory of it pooling warmly in the hollow of her stomach.

“What is it?” Rosalie’s voice was groggy with sleep and her eyes bleary, yet she did not lose sight of Charles as he rolled the sleeves of his crumpled, white blouse down his tanned arms, then buttoning the cuffs.

It had been the middle of the night when they had snuck away from the Blackwood house. Earlier that day, Rosalie had noticed something that had almost resembled a space to sleep, made out of blankets and a few pillows by the creek near the Blackwood house. It wasn’t far, and it made for a perfect hiding spot under the big oak tree. Rosalie had concluded that it had belonged to some teenagers from the village who required some privacy. When she told Charles about the little safe haven she had found, his eyes lit up with delight and something different, something much darker.

“You have to wake up,” he said, reluctance and a tang of regret dripping from his voice. “We have to return to the house soon.”

“Don’t wanna,” A groan of dissatisfaction left from deep within her throat as she rolled on her stomach, away from his insisting eyes, colored with amusement. He chuckled at her child-like sulk.

“I thought you were rather fond of Constance,” he teased her with a crooked smile that she could hear peak through his words. She adored it when he smiled at her, the way his eyes joined and his cheeks rounded out. It was genuine. A thing she wouldn’t see much of in the upcoming week.

With a strong grip, she let him roll her body around so she lay on her back yet again. Supported by his strong arms, rested next to her head on the blanket beneath her, he was so incredibly close. In such a close proximity, she could feel his breath fan over her skin. So close that he could have kissed her, would he have wanted to. He hovered over her for a short moment before settling down on her hips, extracting a huff out of her.

“Get off. You’re too heavy.”

“Aren’t you?” he insisted, purposefully ignoring the remark she had made and staying right where he was. His eyebrows were raised in curiosity. She had almost forgotten about his question, so taken had she been with the thought of kissing him.

“I prefer Mary Katherine. She stays out of my way, for the best part,” Rosalie eventually settled on as an answer. Charles pulled a face at her words.

“Mary Katherine hates me,” he protested, which earned him a sly grin from her.

“She hates you because she thinks you’re planning to steal her sister away,” Rosalie explained to Charles, sinking her fingers in the sun-bleached caramel streaks of his dark hair, a hopeless attempt to make it look semi-presentable.

“Well, I’m not,” he reassured her unspoken doubts as he caught her wrist tightly in his hand, hers so much smaller than his own. Of course, Rosalie knew she was loved by him, but Constance was just as lovely as she was pretty. “She can keep her sister as long as I can keep those silver coins of theirs.”

They smiled together, knowingly, for just a moment. Then, with a soft kiss pressed to her wrist, he returned her hand to her. 

“They have a tub,” she blurted out then, bright, emerald eyes connected with his winter blue ones, right when he was about to pull away from her.

“I know.”

“I’ve always wanted a tub,” he nodded at her confession, a smile playing around his lips.

“I know,” he repeated, the remnants of a difficult past playing behind her eyes. He would do anything for her. “You will get your tub. I promise it.” 

He sealed his promise with a kiss, deep and honest, one accompanied by clicking teeth and desperate tugs at his lips. It left her breathless and yearning. 

“We have to return, before they notice we’re gone,” he whispered against her open mouth, but she could tell that it wasn’t what he truly wanted to do.

“We can stay just a little longer,” she assured him, her fingers snaking up the soft skin of his wrist to check his watch. It was only 6 in the morning. With nowhere to go, Constance had a habit of not getting up for at least another whole hour.

“Rosie,” Charles breathed against the warm skin of her neck, urgent and somewhat demanding. “We have to.”

He sat up once again, sliding off of her until he was at the edge of the blanket, deliberately far away from where her hands could reach for him. With a row of soft pops, he stretched his spine, getting back into the façade Constance and Merricat had grown to know. Friendly. Loving. Interested. Full of fake, bright smiles. The real smiles, the lazy smiles where his eyes were half lidded and honest, those were reserved only for her.

An idea surfaced. If she could not stop him from returning, she could at least distract him long enough to delay him.

“Charles,” her faked innocence had been nothing more than a sad attempt, one Charles saw right through. It betrayed the true intentions that lay beneath the honey sweet lie. She might as well have laid her cards on the table right then and there, as the snort that came from him crumbled the foundations of her self-assurance slightly.

“What, are you gonna suck my cock to convince me to stay?” but she had not been beaten just yet. The tone of his voice had been teasing and playful, but his voice wavered, and the look in his eyes proved that he was curious to her next step.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she challenged him, scooting just a tiny bit closer to his sitting form at the edge of the blanket. Slowly, so very slowly, she let her leg slip in his cotton clothed lap. “Pervert.”

Her foot snaked over his muscled thighs, closer and closer to his cock, that had slightly tented his pants by now. Her lips curled up into a smile that she couldn’t have helped had she wanted to. He was so eager for her touch, the slightest bit of contact had him reeling for more. 

“so, it is not perverted if you insinuate it?” Charles teased her, catching her bare foot in his hand before she had the chance to get him really worked up. His gaze caught hers, and for a moment he seemed to contemplate her advances. She held her breath in anticipation, want burning hard in her belly.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” in the end, Charles was nothing more than a man of flesh and blood and needs.

The tinkering of her laugh echoed over the stream of water by the sheltered creek, but only for a short while, because Charles was back between her thighs before she had the opportunity to tease him for his weak resolve.

He broke her unspoken words off with lips that came home to hers, tasting sweet and spicy like star anise, wanting and craving more. She kissed him back with equally as much fervor, pink lips caught between teeth and gasps for air that infuriatingly interrupted them.

“You needy little thing,” Charles taunted her, as he took his time to push her sunflower dress from the day before up her thighs until the fabric bunched uselessly around her waist, which left her exposed underneath his gaze and the cool summer air, save for her cotton panties.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded of her, as he moved on to her neck, sure to leave purple bruises and stubble scratches she would have to cover up later to make sure no one would see them. Mary Katherine was cunning, nothing slipped past her.

A soft whimper escaped her as she arched her back, and with it, her wanting cunt pressed up against his strong thigh. She squirmed against him, her legs trembling at the feeling of the muscles of his thigh rippling under his aching core.

Evil as he was, he made sure his leg was just out of her reach, denying her the slight relief she so craved. A fitting grin graced his face. Angry eyes looked back.

“Tell me what you want, Rosie,” he repeated. Her name fell of his tongue as sharp as a knife. “I might just give it to you.”

“I want you,” she breathed, bunching up the fabric of the blouse he was wearing between her fingers, shaking with desire for more, more of him, more of his touch. More, more, more.

“I want this off, please,” the tone of her voice was dripping with desperation, her brows knitted together at the effort it took her to not simply rip off the buttons of his blouse and dig her nails into his back muscles.

“Hmm,” Charles hummed, stalling his permission, enjoying the red coloring her cheeks. “I think that can be arranged.”

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he unbuttoned the blouse that hid his broad shoulders and toned chest, and her teeth bit down on her lip so hard, she was sure it had drawn blood.

“You’re a vision,” she spoke. Her fingers danced over the skin of his muscled chest, soft and warm and so responsive under her touch. His breath hitched when her hand traveled down between the sharp lines of his chest. His nipples stood hard, awaiting her next move.

“I want to kiss you,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Here.”

Without breaking the eye contact between them, the smooth tips of her fingers found his nipples, that stood erect under her keen stare. With a burst of recklessness, her painted fingernail dragged over the tip, a gentle scratch that had him groan softly.

“F-fuck,” involuntarily, his hips jerked against her soft, bare thighs at the simple, slight touch. She took his curse for permission.

Right beneath his collarbone, she left her first kiss of many to come, featherlight and of the gentlest kind, but it had Charles hold his breath, eager for what was to follow. Her left hand was placed under his ribcage, the soft dig of her nails there making him crazy.

The trail of kisses continued down, down and down, until the grip in her hair made her scalp burn, and then she went up, up, up…

Charles looked right into her moss colored eyes when she closed her blinking teeth around his nipple, and then he wasn’t anymore, his head thrown back at the sensations she brought him. It hurt, fuck, it hurt, but he liked it, he liked it so much that his cock twitched in the confinements of his pants. Now he understood why she liked to get her hair pulled so much.

When she pulled back, her teeth had left little indentations around his nipple he was sure would turn purple. A wolf grin met him when he dragged his eyes back up to her face.

A scoff escaped him as he pushed her back down on the blanket by her shoulders, gentle, but not quite gentle enough to let the meaningful grin rest on her face.

“That was not very nice,” he confronted her playfully, but determined enough to make her pay by taking just as much, if not more, pleasure from Rosie.

“Maybe I’m just not as much of a good girl as you think I am.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear Rosie,” he smiled as her hips immediately lifted for him when they came around her ass to pull down her panties. So obedient. “I think you can be a very good girl if you want to be.”

It was torture, how his hands teased the soft skin of her thighs, but never touched her where she needed him most. With big, emerald eyes she observed him, and he internally smiled, knowing how good he was about to get her back.

“Good girls use their words,” Charles informed, nonchalant.

“I want you against me,” she confessed, cheeks ablaze at her own vulgarity. “Your thigh. Against my…”

Lucky for her, Charles was more occupied with getting back at her than embarrassing her. His thigh was back between her legs where it belonged, the fabric of his expensive pants cool against her exposed pussy. A whimper left her lips.

“My good girl,” Charles complimented her. With legs that trembled dangerously, she arched her back and grinded her hips against his muscled thigh. The pressure felt so good against her throbbing clit, it made her rock her hips harder against him. 

Overwhelmed with the need to be inside of her, Charles stilled her rolling hips until her eyes shot back open again with a tormented groan.

“Charles–“

“Does my good girl not want her reward?” he innocently asked her, his put on façade of innocence worked better than hers from earlier, not that she would admit that to him out loud.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want you inside of me.”

With the swiftest movement, his cock sprung free from the confinements of his pants, and if her pussy hadn’t been soaked to the core just yet, it sure would’ve been at the sight of his cock, stiff and with an angry red tip.

“Please,” she whimpered, nails digging so deep into his skin, he was sure it was bleeding, but he couldn’t care less. Not with this gorgeous creature spread open so beautifully before him.

His throbbing cock rubbed against her wet pussy, and a grunt escaped him when he finally thrusted home.

“You’re so tight,” Charles breathed, overcome by her warm wetness around his erect length. 

“For you,” she moaned, pushing her hips back against his, letting him know that it was okay to move.

And oh, he did.

With his face buried in her neck, he thrusted his cock deep inside her, and if she hadn’t been sure she was going to hell already, she would’ve thanked God for the secluded little place they had found.

Moans spilled from her lips like prayers, so pleased by how Charles made her feel, him hard and throbbing inside of her as his body laid wrapped around her like a warm, protective blanket.

With every claiming trust, he knocked the air right out of her, and she felt like she could die on the spot, happy. So fucking happy with how full he made her feel, fitted perfectly for her.

His hand, warm and flat against her tummy, snaked down between their two writhing forms, rubbing slow circles around her aching clit, so strong in contrast with his fast snapping hips against hers.

“God, you fucking minx,” he groaned when she clenched around him, tight and warm and wet and, oh, for fuck’s sake, he felt the tightness in his belly getting so incredibly close to snapping.

She couldn’t deny that she was just about as close as he was, chasing his hand between her legs with her hips, and the familiar heat that had built up was so close to exploding.

With a final, deep thrust, she felt his cock pulsate inside of her, and spurts of his hot cum filled her up, sending her over the edge. Her legs shook underneath her, cunt tight around him as she came, overcome with the hot waves of her climax.

When she came down from her orgasm, Charles had pulled his softening cock from in between her folds, and he looked at her through half lidded, exhausted eyes.

“We really have to return now,” he spoke, his breathing erratic and uneven, as he checked his wrist watch. She smiled.

Mission accomplished.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe Seb has me soft for this man. I refuse to believe it!


End file.
